Galaxy and Promise

Titan's climate never seems to be good.

Terence couldn't remember the last time he saw a clear sky.

But today's weather is not bad.

The boy walked slowly down the Gobi Desert.

Occasionally, the shadow of a ship will pass by in the gray-yellow sky.Pirates, refugees, rebels, and the Titan defense line rarely calmed down. There were several small-scale conflicts almost every day, and they were quickly quelled.He has long been used to it.

The stars rise above the head, which is the most comfortable time of the day, and later, the short day will pass, the temperature will drop below minus twenty degrees, and the breath will turn into ice.

Terrence yawned and found a place to nest, squinting his eyes like a cat that is full in the afternoon, trying to warm its fur.

He took out the kettle, took out a box of instant rations from his pocket, and grabbed a handful of dried leaves.Finally, he took out a simple radio, which was assembled from the parts dismantled from the enemy's fighter plane.

16 is old.

The wind and sand of Titan's coarse gravel almost wore away the softness and innocence that the boy once had.He was cold and sharp, stronger and sharper than anyone expected.

The dried leaves float up and down in the hot water, and gradually unfold a light green color.

Terence unwrapped the package of instant rations, looked inside with disgust, took out one and took a bite.

In order to facilitate storage and transportation, most of the frontier military rations are compressed biscuits, and the energy provided by each piece can meet the needs of high-intensity combat for a whole day.The taste is actually not too bad, but as the distribution day is approaching, popular flavors such as braised beef, hazelnut chocolate, and colorful lemon oranges have been sold out, leaving only the love and peace style of stewed mushrooms in sesame oil, which is daunting. nothing.

Terrence took a sip of water, put the biscuit stick in his mouth, and started to adjust the radio.

The signal in the border area was erratic, and rustling noise came from the stereo. He adjusted the channel patiently, and finally received a signal from a space station in outer orbit. He was singing in a dialect he could not understand.

Terrence ate today's rations with singing.

Still very bad.

According to the imperial calendar, it will soon be the Festival of the Gods.

The frontier guards never have holidays, but the Imperial Fleet, which routinely changes the guard, will bring New Year's supplies, desserts, alcohol and tobacco from Tino. Only then will the prosperity from the main star condescend to dye the distant border with a little festive color .

The best thing to drink is silver pine wine. This year he has to run faster and grab more to hide.

Seemingly feeling a little happy, the boy gently hummed the melody in a nasal voice.

The fleet arrived after an all-night sneak attack.

The morning light was twilight, and the saturation of the clouds in the sky gradually increased. Terence returned to the base amidst the gradually thinning gunshots.He rubbed his sore shoulders and looked up at the shadow of the warship gradually lowering. The wind pressure raised a large cloud of dust and made a low and long roar.

He stopped to think for a moment, weighed the silver pine wine and sleep, and finally chose the latter, turned and walked towards the dormitory.

"Terrence—"

He had just walked into the bathroom, splashing a handful of water to wash off the blood on his face, when suddenly a colleague patted him on the shoulder: "Hey, someone is looking for you, Terrence."

The port was buzzing with people.

The logistics department is busy transporting the supplies on the supply ship back to the warehouse, and at the same time it has to deal with open and secret robberies from colleagues.The chubby logistics officer was bouncing up and down the bridge like a rubber ball, flailing his arms angrily and yelling.A lieutenant with a cigar came over, pinched the cigarette behind his ear, bit the cork with his teeth, and poured a big gulp of spirits into his mouth.

The logistics officer was choked and looked even more indignant. He tried to jump up and beat the lieutenant, but was easily dodged, and then he couldn't help laughing himself.

Terrence was a little distracted.

He didn't pay much attention to what the young officer in front of him was babbling about.The clouds outside the window gradually faded and turned grayish yellow, like a canvas that could never be wiped clean.

The short day of the Titans has come.

He thought: It will probably snow in Tino this season.

Titan has no snow.

The water vapor in the air is so thin that even in the coldest night it will only form fine ice.

"...Do you know?" The other party asked patiently.

Terrence came back to his senses, raised his head, and after a while, he showed a fleeting smile: "Yes."

He didn't think about being able to go back to Tino, or about the snow outside the window when he woke up one morning.But at this moment, he couldn't help but wonder if the taste of this year's Silver Pine Wine was the same as last year's.

-

Rare day off.

Andrei was writing hard on the terrace of the library. The most ingenious course of the First Military Academy of the Empire was the History of the Empire. In today's expensive paper and pen, it actually requires handwritten papers!

… Occasionally, I was forced to copy textbooks by hand as punishment for failing to answer questions in class.

Every year, as many as [-]% of the military students are delayed due to failure of the imperial history department. It is almost tears for those who see it, and it is shocking for those who hear it.

16 is old.

Young and young, high-spirited.

Compared with his peers, Andre knows what he wants.

Wealth, power, status, other than that, the family name could not bring him, even Grand Duke Legere could not bring him, the unique ambition and arrogance of young people, what you want must be obtained by yourself.

Even if he is already the Grand Duke's favorite heir.

For this reason, Andre rejected the place for him to study political science and law at the Imperial Central Academy arranged by the Grand Duke, and chose the First Military Academy of the Empire instead.

Air Combat Division, a sophomore, in the divisional assessment in the spring of next year, he will get a division A, and he must be among the best.Then, go to the front.The empire was in an era of unprecedented expansion, and Andre always knew what to do—if he was good enough and lucky enough.

The young ambitious man paused his pen and drew a line in the imperial history textbook.Put aside the lofty ideals first, the most urgent thing is not to fail the exam next week.

He doesn't want to spend his next day off doing homework.

"Write down the name of the 26th Foreign Minister of the Empire, when he took office and when he left office, and the state-level agreements signed during his tenure."

... Anyway, this class is really bad.

The commotion below the terrace seemed to be growing louder.

It seems that today is not a suitable day for homework.

Andre looked at the homework paper that was still half empty, whistled, closed the cap of the pen with a click, put the paper into the textbook, and took the [-]cm-thick "Teaching You to Write an Essay on the History of Empires" Put it in the bookcase and stand up.

By the time he strolled slowly to the end of the spiral staircase, the dispute from below was over.

Ugh, forced to end.

Andre looked from bottom to top, the black-haired boy was ending the one-sided gang fight neatly with a beautiful side kick, and Andre swore he heard the sound of bones breaking.

The frontline style of complete utilitarianism is sharp, decisive and leaves no stone unturned.And his uniform says it all—Marine Warfare, Officer Reserve.

The Imperial Military Academy does not forbid fighting fiercely in private, and the young and proud cadets can't wait to stretch out their claws.

The reserve officer from the border base was like a ferocious wolf, breaking off the little lion's minions one by one.

"Gentlemen."

Andre was taken aback and couldn't help but stop.The reserve officer actually had a fairly standard Tino's Upper East Side accent.

He said: "Thank you, this is not actual combat."

After speaking, he wiped off the blood stains on his knuckles in a normal way, and raised his head casually.

He was a very thin young man, with black hair and bristling, sunburnt face, unremarkable appearance, and a cool and disdainful arc on the corner of his mouth.As soon as his eyes met Andre's, he lowered his head, took out a box of lozenges from his pocket, poured two pieces into his mouth, and walked away nonchalantly across the dead marine students .

Andre raised his eyebrows slightly as he watched the boy's figure disappear around the corner.

The corner of the young careerist's mouth curled up in an unpleasant arc.

—That's a really unpleasant guy.

The author has something to say:

Andre's 16-year-old is a second-year boy, the proud son of heaven. The difference between him and ordinary second-year boys is that he knows what he has to pay for it, and finally succeeds.

Terrence's 16-year-old is too precocious, he is aimless, indifferent, and implicitly self-loathing.

Andre didn't like him at first sight (.

By the way, while Andre has grown into a really solid and good adult, Terrance hasn't grown much since he was sixteen.

It's just that careerists and war criminals have different purposes.But always on the same road.

Also, the innocence and softness hidden in the tempering are like dried leaves, which will be stretched out again in the hot water.